Grim Times at 12 Grimmauld Place
by the-everest
Summary: The war is over, but what does that mean for the loyalties and friendships that were forged by it? It's hard to realize you've been wrong about your prejudices, and Draco can't seem to stop himself from changing his perspective about a couple of things while living with the Golden Trio at Grimmauld Place. Dramione 5ever.
1. Chapter 1

**No I don't own anything – not Harry Potter, not the characters, nothing.**

 **AU of life post-War – we begin our story at Grimmauld place. Almost all the characters that died in the books, also died in this world - plus a few more to be explained later. In the midst of great disorder, the Ministry is enforcing a special program to break down boundaries between the former post-war alliances before students return to Hogwarts. More will be explained later - please try not to dwell so much onto it for now, as I wrote this quickly as sort of a prologue. (Don't know how much I plan to write, but will definitely write more if people dig this..)**

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 **Grim Times Intro:**

The sun was streaming through in its last attempts to latch onto the coming night. The room was filled with pale-orange light and shadows.

He liked the way this setting sunlight made her hair kind of glow. Her full dark curls covered her shoulders as she had strewn herself across the couch, her face turned inward into the worn soft cushions. This was her favorite place.

He loved that he knew that.

He was standing over her now, debating whether or not to wake her. Only because he missed her. Wanted to know what she would have to say.

But he felt odd towering above her – just sort of shifting in his heels with apprehension, because _Merlin!_ he couldn't help himself.

He saw the small bit of skin above her hip, just there, where her T-shirt had hitched up. He just knew – were he to touch it – it would be so warm. She was always so warm. She practically radiated heat. Even in her slumber, her body seemed to glow and warm up to him.

He wanted to slide his cool fingers across that small triangle, to work his hand around her hip and flip her onto her back – to lock eyes with her and have her greet him with that small smile she reserved for special fleeting moments that passed between them. And then with him seated next to her, almost hovering over her chest, he would say, _"Y_ _ou dream of anything good there, Granger?"_

And then, groggily, she would nod, never moving her dark-honeyed eyes off of his as she would reach with confidence for the waist of his jeans.

And yes, they were in the living room and any one of the others could be coming downstairs any bloody minute now, but he didn't sodding care. He wanted to feel her hand around him, to assure her of what she could already suspect from the look in his eyes – that he fucking _wanted_ her. And Merlin! He just couldn't believe that this was his life. He was so lucky – so thoroughly lucky –

"Oy! What are you bloody standing there for, Malfoy?"

Draco affixed a cold hard glare to look up at the Weasel-King, standing in the doorway holding, as usual, more food. He hadn't even noticed him approaching. He didn't know what he looked like to Weasley, but he was sure it couldn't be good.

He was practically hovering over her – and now she just stirred. _Great_ , he thought, a panic building in his chest. _Obviously, she'd wake up with Weasley blowing up at him._

"Humh? Ron.." Hermione grumbled, trying to push the sleep out of her eyes. She stopped moving as soon as she sensed someone standing above her – only slowly peering over her arm to see white-blond hair and a long pale face with silvery eyes looking at her.

Draco cleared his throat.

"Thought I saw it from across the room, and I was right. You definitely… have a spider… on you," he said as evenly as he could.

Draco jerked back just as Hermione yelped and bounced off the couch, brushing herself off.

"Gee, _thanks a lot_ , Malfoy," she drawled crossly. "Really helpful of you to just leave the spider on me…" she grumbled as she felt around the couch for her wand to wordlessly apply a scourgify spell.

She stalked off in a mood, none the wiser. When Draco looked back at the Weasel, he almost let out a laugh – Ron was still digging into whatever sandwich he'd just made but couldn't take his eyes off of the couch. He watched it fearfully between bites, shivering a little to himself.

"Creepy git," Weasley seemed to whisper, more to himself, as he left in a hurry, just in case a spider nest lay near.

Draco rolled his eyes and sat down on the couch, throwing his face into his hands.

What in Salazar's name was happening to him? He couldn't believe that _this_ was his life now. He was so… so thoroughly fucked.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Here's a bit of an exposition sort of chapter- don't own any of the characters, but I thought writing the interactions between them as I explain this situation would be really fun. This is happening very nearly after the War. Also thanks for everyone that read or commented!**

Draco Malfoy opened his eyes that morning, numbly taking in the outdated wallpaper and the bubbled-up ceiling that seemed to be taking in water damage. It wasn't his home.

Since he had come to stay at Grimmauld Place for the foreseeable future, he had taken some small pains to transfigure a little bit of "his own" room. The formerly black walls had a green sheen to them and he'd had his rough blankets morphed into shining silver cotton sheets with as high a thread-count as he could fathom. Anything to make it feel a little bit more "his."

Before he got up, he rolled onto his stomach trying to smell his own bedding – and quickly wrinkling his nose as a result. Without any real help, his sheets had received several treatments of Scourgify, but no actual washing.

He got out of bed slowly, looking for a clean shirt. Of course, none would have previously passed his standards for clean, but it would have to do. _The Black family's loyal servant is not good for much besides getting in our way_ , Draco thought, shuddering a bit. Grimmauld Place was crammed enough as it was, already.

Before leaving the room, he cast a quick revealing spell, to check for anyone in the narrow hallway. _Just don't want to brush into any grubby Weasel at this hour_ , he said to himself.

Slowly and quietly – he hoped – he made his way down the stairs, slipping into the kitchen once he was assured he was alone.

He stopped in his tracks when he saw Potter's mess of hair bobbing over some papers at the table. But then he squared his shoulders, tipped his chin up, and walked on in.

Potter didn't even seem to notice.

"Reading over fan letters already, Potter?" Draco asked, not altogether unkindly – he thought.

Harry scowled. "I think 'Mione charmed the windows to incinerate any errant messages being flown in."

"Really?" Draco cocked his head to the side, hoping to mask any actual interest from his face. "Doesn't seem quite decent to scare up the owls like that for what they're told to deliver."

"I'm not hurting the owls," Hermione said, grimacing to herself. "I made perfectly sure that the messages get destroyed only after they've been dropped off."

She walked pointedly toward the kitchen windowsill, covered in soot. She briskly opened the window and brushed away the remnants, looking for _The Daily Prophet_ or any other actually useful communication.

"What are you reading Harry?" she asked, perching herself next to her best friend.

Draco remained standing, looking between the floor and his cup of tea that he'd just warmed.

"Got an owl from McGonagall this morning. It's not for…err.. me. It's all of us, I mean," Harry backtracked awkwardly.

"What is it?"Hermione pressed eagerly.

"Looks like we are all expected to return for our last year at Hogwarts," he said, drooping his shoulders.

"But Harry, that's marvelous! It means all of the renovations are on track!" Hermione said brightly.

Draco just looked as his tea. Suddenly, he didn't want the sodding tea. So he transfigured it to coffee: black.

"I don't want to go back to bloody Hogwarts," Harry sighed, relinquishing the pages to Hermione – positively ready to jump out of her skin with excitement.

"But Hogwarts is our home!" she looked at him lovingly, before starting to pore over the pages from McGonagall. "You're name's on this too, Malfoy!"

Draco nodded toward them at hearing himself addressed, but did not look directly at the table. Instead, leaning back into the sink, he pushed his tongue into the back of his teeth, thinking.

"I suppose I was gone away about as long as _you lot_ were _traipsing_ around for horcruxes," he said evenly, still not looking at them.

" _Hunting_ horcruxes," Harry corrected.

"Yes," Draco rolled his eyes. "And we're so very grateful you did," he added with less biting sarcasm than usual.

Harry laughed maybe in spite of himself at that. He tried to catch Draco's eyes, but the Slytherin was resolutely looking through the bottom of his cup.

Just then, the old Black elf ambled in, upset as usual. _My family would never allow such open disobedience_ , Draco thought quickly.

"Some breakfast, Kreacher?" Harry called after the crouched figure before it could disappear into the pantry.

The elf wheeled around slowly.

"And what would Master like?"

"Just make some toast and eggs and things for everyone," Harry waived dismissively.

Kreacher started to go, before his eyes landed on the petite brunette whose morning curls seemed to bounce out in every direction.

"Kreacher does not _serve_ for filthy _mudblood_ ," he drawled out.

Harry made to throw his shoe at him, as Hermione put a hand out to stop her friend, rolling her eyes.

 _Well, she is one_ , Draco thought briefly. Suddenly he looked up, almost to check if either of the two had heard his thoughts. Draco often found himself recoiling at the almost-reflexive thoughts that ran through his mind. How could that have been such a big part of his life, of the Malfoy legacy?

In truth, he had started to fear the fanaticism behind blood purity in his sixth year, but he still couldn't seem to shake off his unconscious prejudices.

"Ron, they're goin' to _force us_ back into Hogwarts for an extra year," Harry called out, snapping Draco from his reverie.

The redhead's lanky frame slunk right past Draco to the other end of the table.

"That's _total_ bollocks!" said Ron loudly, suddenly very much awake and alert. "What's it good for being war heroes, then?!"

"Don't recall you working on arithmancy while we were gone, Ronald," Hermione tutted at him. "Nor potions – hardly herbology, really – no transfiguration, either-"

"Transfiguration?! Hermione! I was a _truly_ compelling Death Eater when we snuck into Grin-"

"Yes, but who transfigured you?" she smiled teasingly.

Draco kept a smile to himself as he took in the site.

"I still saw'r 't, di'n't I?" he grumbled, with his face in his arms. Sagging over the table, Ron called for food.

 _Always with the food_ , Draco thought, sneering a bit to himself. Of course, he didn't usually make it his business to taunt Ron anymore. Draco could conjure up something close to pity when he thought of how personally that hothead would take anything he said. Any resulting fights with Ron were a waste of his time.

And he didn't fully know how much longer he would be staying here.

"Will Slytherins be returning to school too, do you think?" Hermione asked, glancing across toward Draco. Harry looked up too, but Ron just growled lowly into his arms – his head still on the table.

Draco tried to simply shrug off their glances.

"I'm not their bloody spokesman," he said finally.

"No, just'a prince of Slytherin," Weasley mumbled, still into his hands.

"Do you expect others will come back at least?" Harry pressed on, ignoring his best friend.

Draco raked a hand through his ice-blond hair. Did he even want them to come back?

"Most of the third years and fourth years, I reckon. Probably all the younger ones. Hard to say with anyone old enough to have tried to fight," he told them noncommittally.

"Are you… still in touch with any of those…?"

"No," Draco shook off Harry's follow-up question. "No, they've all got their own charges to…mitigate."

Harry nodded absently, perhaps remembering that he hadn't seen any of Draco's compatriots at his arraignment hearings.

 _Had been pretty pathetic_ , Draco thought back darkly, _losing all my money and finding out I'd lost all my friends._

The sizable allowance that he had access to had gone toward paying for an excellent counsel and representation within the Wizengamot to argue against the Ministry that he had been forced to take up the Dark Mark and join Voldemort's ranks while underage. Perhaps he had escaped any serious repercussions for fighting alongside the Death Eaters, but many of his close friends hadn't.

The full funds of the Malfoy fortune, of course, were frozen - seized by the Auror Department. They had taken up any asset that would have been given to him in name. He really had nothing, he thought as he looked down into his mug once more.

"Mmm, our year is going to be much smaller too," Hermione mused sadly. Harry cut her off before she could start listing out the losses.

"We're done mourning before breakfast, 'Mione," he said sternly. Still he reached out a hand to squeeze her shoulder affectionately.

Draco watched as Granger leaned into Harry's touch. _Would she simply recoil if I ever did…_ his thoughts trailed off. _Likely_.

 **A/N – So here is where Draco is at – lost a bit, trying to just get by and find his place. Also, for once, not filthy rich. My question to you is how do you think he got to being so head-over-heels for Hermione? How did this change of heart start for him?**

 **And I wonder what could've happened to have Harry warm up to Malfoy so much?**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N reminder – I don't own any of these characters. Also, got a message from someone about using italics – sorry to be unclear. I use it for emphasis and for thoughts that occur directly, not flashbacks. Thanks for bearing with me! Excited to move the story on!**

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"This seems rather pointless, if you ask me," Harry called out into the fireplace. Ron was beside him, nodding lazily – perhaps not quite following the arguments, Draco thought.

"It is most certainly in Minerva's prerogative to act in your best interest," spoke a solemn Kingsley through the embers. "It is imperative that the Ministry does not overstep the decisions of the new Hogwarts Headmistress as the school is also re-establishing its presence, Mr. Potter."

"But we've nothing left to learn in bloody school, we've already worked so-"

"Harry!" Hermione called out in exasperation. "Would you stop being a child?!"

Harry and Ron whipped their heads toward the witch in surprise. Only Draco tried to steady his gaze out the window, though he could feel the command and power that was flowing off her from across the room.

"For Godric's sake!" she harrumphed. "Our _entire_ world is _stitching itself together_ after having gone _completely mad_. And you two are trying to fix the system because you are too _lazy_ and… and-selfish to put up with a few lessons!? You are _both_ incorrigible!"

Draco thought he heard the fireplace sigh with relief. Kingsley dismissed himself quietly, and left the Golden Trio to stare at one another.

Ron, embarrassed stalked out of the room, and Hermione stood her ground until she saw she wasn't getting through to her stubborn, hot-headed friend. Frustrated, she let out a slow breath as she held her ground.

Harry stood, squinting slightly in her direction, waiting for her to react. To Draco, the stand-off seemed like ages, then suddenly:

"I. Am not. Going to waste my time there," Harry bit out harshly.

Malfoy didn't think he felt the particular need to interject, but he found himself voicing his musings anyway. "Whether or not you would waste your time is all part of one's perspective," he said evenly, trying to ignore whatever reactions his words had on Harry and Hermione.

"Malfoy, the war _is not_ over and done," Harry said, practically hissing as he looked between him and Hermione. "There're Death Eaters everywhere, still. And – and – well, it's because of _them_ that many people won't get to return to Hogwarts this year."

At this, Hermione's face softened, and she made to step toward her friend, but Harry began pacing quickly.

"I can fight. I can join the fight and help out. All of us can," he said, more to himself.

Silence filled the room once more, as Harry slowed in his tracks. Then, he sat down – or plopped down – in the middle of the room, looking overwhelmed.

"I don't want to be there right now, to face Hogwarts and all," Harry said. "It's – well – a lot of it is _my_ fault."

"Harry, no one blames you –," Hermione began to chide stepping forward.

"When you put that much weight on your shoulder, in my experience, it tends to break you," Draco said, suddenly. Both Hermione and Harry looked up confused, causing Malfoy to sight a bit inwardly. "What I mean is… it's done – the worst of it is past. And it's just… well, it's no good tormenting yourself, is it?"

"That's very… right, Malfoy," Hermione said simply.

"Surprised are you, Granger?" He cocked an eyebrow at her, before turning back to Harry. "Potter, don't be a fool and overlook all the good that you did. As someone that's responsible for… a _great_ deal," he said, shuddering, "I can tell you that no one is looking to _seriously_ blame the bloody-Chosen-One."

"Stop – just stop," Harry shook his head. "We know you were forced to do whatever you had to."

Malfoy wanted to believe him, but he couldn't really read his or Granger's faces. Both seemed withdrawn, as when they had waited during his last trial summons at the Wizengamot.

"Besides, I've used your wand, Malfoy," Harry reminded simply. "It did not resist firing back against – against its _own_ _side_ , if you could call it that. I could sense the conflict built up in whatever... whatever _actions_ you took."

Draco looked from him to Hermione, trying to see any sort of flash or acceptance on the face of the witch in front of him.

"I guess you have both been there for those last hearings and confessions," he shrugged.

Harry nodded looking at Hermione, who pushed up the corners of her mouth mechanically as her eyes filled with – well, Draco couldn't quite tell, but he thought it was pity.

 _Hard to imagine a month ago that Potter would be set to console me_ , Draco thought, scoffing lightly at his own predicament.

With his father in Azkaban, and his mother _dead_ , he recalled with a shudder, he hadn't had many places to go, once the Malfoy Manor had been seized by the Aurors. It had been Kingsley who came to tell him that, as a long-term residence of the Dark Lord, the Malfoy estate would be seized and heavily scrutinized for at least the remainder of the year to detect any additional dark artifacts or remnants left behind by Voldemort. His Gringotts vault was seized as well. Probably to ensure he wouldn't go spending it all on reviving some sort of Death Eater network. Who knew when he would have his wealth and home again?

After the war, he, too, had been under the custody of Aurors, as he was in possession of a Dark Mark. Once he had been deemed a victim instead of a supporter of Voldemort, he had only his mother's sister, Andromeda Black, to turn to. Andromeda _Tonks_ , actually. Not that Draco had ever really known of her life and goings-on in such detail before. Aunt Dromeda accepted an unofficial custody of him, after assuming full legal custody of her orphaned grandson, Teddy Lupin. She lived in 12 Grimmauld Place, with what happened to be many of the Weasley kin and the entire Golden Trio. Brimming with residents as the house already was, one more wayward soul was still accepted inside.

Harry, Teddy's godfather, after all, did not wish to see Andromeda struggle with her grandson and a newly re-aquired nephew. And he had seemed oddly accepting of the circumstances once Draco had arrived. Now, here he was – trying to encourage Malfoy.

"Whatever will happen, mate, it's still clear," Draco said, shifting a bit in his seat, trying to bring the conversation back to Potter's Hogwarts term. "If I can make it through a school year, you might, too."

Harry nodded slowly, looking unconvinced.

"Unless… Unless I write to Professor Slughorn and ask him to write me some – some sort of 'exemplary wizard' clearance," Harry rushed, distractedly, getting up to rush back toward the room he was currently sharing with Ron.

Draco stared after him, incredulously. _That's what he got out of that?_

"Thank you for trying, Malfoy," Hermione said, seeming to smile after Harry in spite of herself. "Maybe… maybe he really does need this more than anyone."

Draco felt a pang in his stomach, just from the way she seemed to look after Potter. He couldn't imagine she'd look that way after him.

"Or maybe you're enabling him, Granger," he said, scowling lightly, no menace in his eyes.

Hermione laughed a bit at him. "Yes, well… even Harry knows I'm not done trying to convince him yet," she said leaving the room.

That was the evolution of her interactions with him, it seemed. Once Draco had arrived to Grimmauld Place, when they were alone for the first few times, she had asked him endless questions.

"So what do you know of your father's business in our fifth year, then?" she had asked once suddenly.

"Merlin, Granger, how are you not on the Wizengamot?" he'd said, grasping to think of a satisfying enough answer to her inquisition.

Then, once she'd heard his piece, she went on the offensive – quick to call into action his mistakes and his prejudices and all of it.

He'd thought if she went off about "electricity" one more time and how it makes everything so bloody perfect that he was going to have to obliviate himself. But he didn't fight her about the muggle world anymore. And he didn't mind hearing about it – a part of him was surprised to learn about what his father had always called "those primitive creatures."

Lately, though, Hermione never managed more than a few words to him, and they weren't always directed to him.

It was his fault, he knew. He had changed things between them. He had ruined everything by practically shattering their fragile (and that was putting it kindly) dynamic of friendship.

He shouldn't have ever kissed her.


End file.
